


Unintentional

by KathyRoland



Series: Life and Relationships, Cases Included. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyRoland/pseuds/KathyRoland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sees a way for John to help out on a case.  Nothing goes like he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintentional

**Author's Note:**

> The plot idea came from a post at Make Me a Monday, not me.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he covertly studied the suspect he had followed into the bar. The man was obviously former military, high rank at that and now retired. He now worked in the financial district. He was single, but on the lookout for a relationship. He had no immediate family, no kids. And he was currently sizing John up, wondering if John was involved with Sherlock in a romantic sense or as a friend.

Sherlock was struck by a brilliant idea. John- his ignorant yet oh so loyal flat mate could be used in this case!

The man in question, his John, was squinting down at his order of pub food as if weighing if all the grease was worth the slight nutritional value it provided.

“John.”

John looked up and narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. Obviously, despite Sherlock’s best efforts, he was getting better at reading when Sherlock was about to request something John would consider “a bit not good.”

“John, I need you to approach the man over in the corner of the bar, the one in the green shirt. Buy him a drink and flirt with him.”

John blinked bemusedly and looked over at the man in question. When he made eye contact, he nodded briefly before switching his attention back to Sherlock.

“Are we on a case?” There was a dangerous warning tone in John’s voice as he hissed the question at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded once. “Of course, John! And that man is the most likely suspect. I need you to distract him for the night. Don’t bring him over to our flat, though- make certain he takes you to his place.”

Slow fury was building up in John’s expression. “Do you mean to tell me that you want me to whore myself out for a case?” His left eye had developed a twitch and he gripped the sides of the table they were seated at as though if he didn’t maintain his hold, his hands would find themselves around Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock sniffed, affronted. “You don’t have to sleep with him, John. Just do whatever it was you did with Sarah all those times you went over to her place. I know you never had sex with her.”

“What I did with-“ There was a definite strangled sound to John’s voice right now. He stopped himself and glared at Sherlock.

“It’s not as though you don’t find him attractive, he clearly has all the markers you look for in a possible romantic male partner.” Sherlock didn’t quite understand what the problem was.

John’s indignation was still rising. “Studied me, have you?”

“What you look for in a relationship, yes. It seemed best to better anticipate who you would have in your life, as they would clearly have to interact with me at some point.”

“And when have I ever been attracted to a criminal?”

Sherlock was proud of himself for not mentioning the fact that John’s third relationship after Sarah had clearly been an identity thief- Sherlock had been forced to upgrade John’s bank account security when that relationship had soured. He was getting quite good at being diplomatic in his conversations with John and not saying thing that would obviously upset him.

“There’s a possibility he is not the man I’m looking for.” He offered instead.

“Not the point, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sighed. “Just go and flirt with him for a few minutes. Please. At least get his phone number, so I can check his call history. You don’t have to do anything more than that. It’s for a case, John.” He gave his best beseeching look at John. He knew the use of the word “please” was the best weapon for a situation like this. He used it sparingly so it would work in times like this.

John was still scowling at him. But he was clearly considering it. He looked again at the suspect, evaluating him.

“I must be going insane.” He muttered under his breath. Before he stood up he pinned Sherlock with a look. “You owe me. At least one good meal uninterrupted by anything case related.”

Sherlock nodded, knowing his victory was secure. “Of course, John.”

With a gusty sigh, John leveled himself up and approached the man. Sherlock couldn’t hear what they were saying over the noise of the establishment, so he paid attention to their body language. The suspect was clearly interested in John. And John seemed to have relaxed somewhat and was enjoying himself if the ease of his smile could be interested correctly.

The two men talked and flirted casually. And talked and laughed. And smiled at each other while casually exchanging brief touches. Time went on. Sherlock began to feel… uneasy. Really, John could have disengaged by now and gotten that phone number. Then he and Sherlock could leave. But John didn’t. In fact, John seemed to be enjoying himself quite a lot.

Finally, it came time for the suspect to leave. But John didn’t get his phone number and come back to Sherlock. Instead, he stood up with the man and followed him out the door.

Sherlock had to forcibly loosen his jaw. Why was he so irritated? This was perfect. Now he knew the man would be distracted for the rest of the night and Sherlock would be free to ransack the man’s office. He wouldn’t get another opportunity as good as this- the man clearly had no set schedule with his work and was just as likely to work during the night as he was during the day time.

But instead of feeling accomplished and going out to snoop into the man’s life, he found himself quite discontented and mad. He had to force himself to stand up smoothly and walk out of the pub without drawing attention to himself. John was doing this for the case. Sherlock should make certain it was worth it.

Something in his subconscious told him nothing was worth this feeling.

 

Two hours later, after an exhaustive search, Sherlock conceded that he had made a monumental mistake. The man had not done anything. In fact, he was perfectly respectable and law abiding in every way. Sherlock never experienced homicidal feelings quite like what he was experiencing now.

In fact, by hacking into Lestrade’s files in a fit of pique, Sherlock found the real culprit and fired off a blistering text message to the Met detailing the man’s crimes and the evidence they could use to arrest him.

He also texted John that the man he was with was no longer a suspect and John could come home. There was no reply.

There was also no John for the rest of the night. Or for the majority of the morning. John didn’t arrive back at the flat until 11. He walked in and had a small smile on his face.

Sherlock glared at him from the couch. John paid him no mind.

“I take it you got my text?” Sherlock ground out.

John hummed in affirmative. “Yeah, I figured that out before you sent me anything, though.” He said. “Marcus is a fantastic bloke. I really quite like him.”

John went about making a cup of tea in the kitchen. “What on earth,” he asked from the other room, “made you think that a man like Marcus Morstan was a suspect?”

Sherlock huffed. “If you can’t see it, I’m not going to spell it out for your tiny brain.” He groused.

John just laughed. “Well, keep the explanation in your oh so massive brain, then. Anyway, it all ended quite well, didn’t it?” He stepped into the room with two cups, leaving one in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock twisted his lips in a grimace and said nothing.

“Anyway, Marcus and I will be meeting again tonight. He’s got tickets to some sort of charity gala for impoverished schools. He deals a lot with organizing funding for them. Quite interesting.”

John settled down in his armchair, still smiling that insufferable sated grin of his.

Sherlock looked at his cup of tea, a sharp pain in his chest that he couldn’t explain.


End file.
